So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field

from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade

your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange

a walk on part in the war

for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,

year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.